


Berserker

by LesRevesDoux



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Stiles, Everyone is Alive and Nothing Hurts, Female Stiles Stilinski, Gen, Gore, blood everywhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-20
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2017-12-27 03:33:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LesRevesDoux/pseuds/LesRevesDoux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Scott, we need to do something about Stiles." Derek grumbled quietly.</p><p>"What do you expect me to do?! The last time I got between her and prey, she almost took my head off!" came Scott's incredulous reply.</p><p>"I think it's kind of hot." Isaac offered casually, shrugging his shoulders.</p><p>Or the one where Stiles develops a certain fondness for swords and bathing in the blood of her enemies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Prelude to Madness

              It seemed to Derek that there was never an end to the supernatural creatures invading his territory.

              After the whole ordeal with the Alpha pack was over, he had assumed that things would settle down and go back to a relative normal. Unfortunately, Beacon Hills was living up to its name and attracting all sorts of bullshit. Almost every week, there was some sort of creature threatening to encroach on his pack's territory and he had no choice but to defend it.

               The first problem had been a coven of vampires, and they had barely scraped through that fiasco with all of their members intact. It was only thanks to Stiles' dedicated research that the pack even knew how to fight them off and ensure that they _stayed_ dead. Of course, nothing ever went smoothly for the Hale pack and their very vunerable, very  _human_ member was kidnapped by the leader of the vampire coven. Derek still got chills when he thought about how they barely found Stiles before she was drained dry.

               "This experience was not nearly as romantic as Twilight makes it out to be," Stiles had whimpered softly as Isaac cradled her in his arms. Her lips were pale and tinged blue, and inexplicably turned up at the corners. "Hey, Isaac, does that make you my Jacob?" And then she fucking  _laughed._

                 The pack took her strange behavior in stride, and chalked it up to loss of blood and general Stiles-ness. Isaac and Derek left Erica and Boyd to oversee the burning of the corpses before driving Stiles to the hospital. On the way there, they called Sheriff Stilinski to inform him that his daughter was suffering from some minor blood loss and needed him there to handle the paperwork.

                  When the sheriff arrived, Stiles was already in a hospital bed, hooked up to a bag of blood. He finished filling out her insurance information and, after being directed by Melissa, made his way to her room. When he came to the open door, the sheriff did not enter immediately; instead, he took in the scene before him. Stiles had her hands fisted in the hem of her boyfriend's henley while Isaac sat on the bed next to her, playing idly with a lock of her wild curls. Clearing his throat subtly to announce his presence, Sheriff Stilinski entered the room and sat down heavily in the chair next to the bed.

                 "Hiya, Dad!" Stiles greeted him cheerfully. Her father knew that she meant to come across as being in good spirits, but he could see the exhaustion in the set of her shoulders and the bags under her eyes that stood out against pallid skin.

                  "Hey, kiddo." he replied, offering a small smile. It quickly morphed into a concerned frown when he looked to see just how much blood she was being given. "What happened this time? More werewolves?" He was looking at Stiles, but his question was directed at Isaac.

                   Isaac scratched the back of his neck nervously before answering. "Actually, no. It was vampires. They, uh, wanted the territory of Beacon Hills as feeding grounds and we were strategizing on how to remove them with the least amount of bloodshed when they snatched Stiles." he explained in that quiet way of his. His right hand clenched on top on his thigh and it was a moment before he could speak again. "We got to their batcave just in time to save her. I ripped their leader to pieces." Isaac growled the last part out, his eyes flashing gold. Not for the first time, the sheriff was grateful that Isaac was so protective of his daughter.

                  Nodding his thanks to Isaac, John turned his attention to back to Stiles. She was biting her bottom lip nervously, as if she could sense a lecture coming. But, John was much too tired for all that just now and was just relieved that the most important person in his life hadn't died that night. He'd had enough of that to last him a lifetime. So, instead, he heaved himself to his feet and leaned down to place a kiss to Stiles' forehead before stepping back.

                 "You have got to be more careful, kiddo. I can't lose you, too." And with those somber words, John left the two teens alone and returned to the station where he had a case on exsanguinated bodies to wrap up.

                  For awhile, Isaac and Stiles sat in silence, simply enjoying the reassurance of having their mate safe and relatively sound. Eventually, Stiles tugged Isaac down so that he was lying down next to her and she immediately felt warm again. He drapped an arm over her torso and closed his eyes, listening to the stronger thumping of her heart. It was soothing to him in a way that he was on the precipice of falling asleep but was startled awake by Stiles speaking.

                  "I can't continue being the weak link, Isaac. What if you all don't get there in time next time?" she murmured. Her voice was soft, but her tone screaming determination.

                  "No one will ever hurt you again, as long as I'm still breathing." Isaac vowed fiercely, gripping her around the waist tightly. 

                  Stiles hummed noncommittally, but did not press the issue. She knew that then was not the time and her enduring vulnerability could be discussed at a later time. Sleep was pressing against her eyelids, and Isaac was so incredibly warm next to her. She was asleep before she knew it.


	2. Descent Into Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isaac and Stiles argue about her persisting mortality, and Stiles reaches her limit.
> 
> Or the one where Stiles shows just how easily she can become a sneaky little shit.

 

                A month or so had passed since the vampire incident, and in that time, the pack had had to contend with another wolf pack and a colony fairies of all things. If you think that fairies are all tiny and sparkly and shit, Stiles had evidence to prove otherwise. More specifically, the inch deep gash in her left side that she got from trying to distract a fairy long enough for Isaac to heal from a broken leg. No matter how peeved she was that she'd bled all over her favorite shirt, Stiles would insist that the wound was worth it. Isaac was always worth it.

 

               So, on a Sunday night, she was lying on the McCall kitchen table while Melissa stitched up the gash that ran from the bottom of her ribs to the top of her hip. Isaac stood near her head, palm pressed to her ribs and draining away the pain of her skin being sewn back together. His posture is relaxed, but his face is stony and withdrawn, and he hadn't spoken a word since they'd gotten to Scott's house. Stiles knew that he was upset that she had gotten hurt again, and more than likely felt it was his fault. That aspect of his mentality was perpetually a bone of contention in their relationship; they had spent hours arguing about Stiles' blatant vulnerability and Isaac's overprotective streak. Neither of them ever won.

               "Alright, honey, I'm all done." Melissa murmured distractedly as she rubbed an antibacterial ointment into the fresh stitches. "Be sure to apply this twice a day and, for once in your life,  _take it easy._ No monster fighting for at least two weeks, and definitely no lacrosse practice. Isaac, I'm counting on you to insure she behaves until the stitches dissolve."

                Isaac nodded stiffly and then helped Stiles off of the kitchen table. She went to stretch her tense muscles, but then hissed in pain at the sharp tugging on the stitches. Strong, gentle hands gripped her upper arms to keep her steady when she stumbled and Stiles had to work not to huff out in exasperation. It was the same thing every time; she would get hurt and then Isaac would treat her like she was made of spun glass. Stiles was sick of it.

                "Thank you, Melissa." Stiles mumbled grateful. She gingerly accepted a hug from her surrogate mother, smiling softly at her stern words. "I promise to chill out until I've healed, no worries." Turning to look at Isaac, Stiles frowned and whispered too low for Melissa to hear, "We need to talk in the car. All she got was an almost imperceptible nod in return. She sighed.

                 Once they gathered their things, Stiles and Isaac said their farewells before loading themselves into the car. Neither spoke for the first few minutes of the drive; Isaac because he didn't know what to say, and Stiles because she couldn't get her damn thoughts organized. Eventually, though, she heaved a sighed and decided to put on her big girl panties.

                 "I meant what I said," she murmured softly, knowing her could hear her, even over the car's motor. "You can't reasonably expect me to sit on the sidelines while you and the others fight and get hurt."

                 "But, at what cost, Grazyna?!" Isaac snaps, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. Stiles winced visibly at his use of her first name and his evident frustration.

                 "There is no cost too high when it comes to protecting you, Isaac. I love you, and the pack. The instinct to protect isn't just a wolf thing, you know. If you all remain alive and safe, then it's worth a few scrapes to me."

                  "Well, that's not conducive to  _you_ remaining alive and safe, now is it? Stiles, you're not a wolf and you have zero combat training. You're too easy to kill."

                 Stiles spluttered indignantly and shifted in her seat to scowl at her lover. "I'll have you know that I can shoot a gun better than Allison can shoot an arrow. Dad just refuses to buy me a gun until I turn eighten," she growled at him, in what she considered a good imitation of Derek. "That's beside the point! If you're so concerned with my fighting skills, why don't you train me? You know, let me actually participate in sparring sessions with the pack instead of making me sit on the sidelines."

                 Isaac let out a mirthless laugh and snorted, "And give you a valid excuse to get involved in fights, even though I specifically ask you  _not_ to? I don't think so. What you did today was stupidly reckless. You could have  _died_ , Stiles, and then where would I be?"

                 "You're being ridiculous! I'm not dead, so everything is--"

                 "Don't you dare say that everything is fine!" Isaac snarled loudly. With a jerk of the steering wheel, he pulled over onto the side of the road, put the car in pack, and twisted to face Stiles. She could see that his eyes were flickering between Beta yellow and his normal, soft blue. "You don't understand, Stiles. I can't live without you and to know that if you had died tonight, it would have been because you were trying to protect me. How do you think that would have made me feel?"

                 "If you would just be reasonable, you could see that I'm trying to make sure that never happens again!"

                 "It won't happen again." Isaac growls with finality. "I'm not going to train you, and I'm not going to let anyone else in the pack do so, either. Please, Stiles, I'm begging you to just be safe."

                  Stiles wanted so badly to keep arguing, but she knew that Isaac was just as pigheaded as she was. There would be no chance of her gaining any ground or convinving him while the car was filled with the smell of her blood. So, she pursed her lips, turned to face forward and didn't say another word to him. Not even when he reached out to touch her cheek or when he sighed in frustration before starting the car and taking her back home. When they finally pulled up in front of the Stilinski residence, Stiles got out of the car without a backwards glance and slammed the door behind her. And if she stomped petulantly into the house, all the way up to her room, and locked the window so no furry boyfriends could come through, well, she would never admit to it.

                  With a tiny frustrated scream, Stiles threw herself atop her bed and flailed a bit. The tugging along the edges of her stitches forced her to stop, however, and resigned to lie in bed, glaring at the ceiling until she felt sleepy. Just when her eyes began to droop, Stiles felt her cell vibrate in her pocket and startled to awareness. She tugged it out of her pocket and glared at the screen for a moment before she processed that it was a text from Scott.

**From: Scotty**

_Hey, Mom told me you won't be able to go to lacrosse practice tomorrow after school. Why don't you hang with Allison? She's tired of watching me practice at this point, and could probably use some company.  
_

_  
_Stiles was on the verge of sending back a irate "no, thank you" when she was struck with an idea. A devious smile spread across her lips, the likes of which would have probably creeped Peter out. Chuckling evilly to herself, she sent a quickly reply to Scott saying that she would _love_ to spend time with Allison tomorrow and would make plans with her at lunch. After the text sent, Stiles placed her phone on the nightstand and rolled over snuggled under her blankets, ridiculously pleased with her newly formed planned.

                   _"Isaac never said anything about Allison training me."_ was Stiles' last thought before she drifted off to dreams of becoming a bad ass, motherfucking huntress. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah. I did another thing.  
> Also, Stiles' first name, as a girl, is Grazyna. It's a Polish name and means "beautiful".  
> Let me know what you thought?


	3. Off With Their Heads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris Argent had always prided himself on being a pretty decent judge of character. It was a necessary trait to have in the hunting business. And, he liked to think that he'd had Stiles pegged from the first time he met her.
> 
> Well, he was allowed to be wrong once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to warn you guys, there is going to be a bit of a time skip in this chapter, but I will explain what happened in the in-between.
> 
> However, there will be a bit more action, as hinted at by the name of the story! There will also be a slight reference to some season three Isaac dialogue.

The sound of blades clashing and clanging was constant in the basement of the Argent residence. It was only punctuated by grunts, cries of pain, and the occasional swear word. Allison and Stiles had been sparring like this for a month or so, building up Stiles' combat skills. Once they discovered that she was a shit archer, Chris interfered and suggested training her with bladed weapons. Stiles was adverse to the idea, at first, but quickly found that she liked the weight of a claymore in her hands much more than that of a bow.

"Gosh fucking dammit, are you trying to slice me in half?!" Stiles accused Allison with a yelp. She leaped backwards to avoid the initial swing and then dropped to the balls of her feet to escape the follow through. 

With a snarl to rival a wolf's, Stiles gripped her sword with both hands and swung it at Allison's weak point - her ankles. The brunette's eyes widened, ironically shocked that Stiles would go for such a vicious strike. However, Stiles surprised her and smashed the broad side of the blade against the ball of her ankle. When Allison toppled over with an agonized grunt, Stiles stood from her crouch and moved to loom over her fallen friend, and pressed the tip of her sword over Allison's heart.

"Enough!" Chris commanded sharply from his spot near the wall. Stiles turned her head swiftly to fix him with an unfathomable look. Her eyes were dancing with an emotion that the Argent male couldn't name, but he was decidedly unsettled by it. Still, he frowned deeply at Stiles until she slowly stepped back from Allison a bit and allowed him to move forward and assist his daughter.

Tugging Allison to her feet, he asked if she was okay. "I think my ankle might be fractured, but other than that, I'm good." she assured him with a grimace. And if a chill shivered down Chris' spine at the vicious grin that curved Stiles' lips, well, no one ever had to know.

"Alright, kiddo. Go upstairs and put some ice on it. Once the swelling goes down, we'll take you to the hospital to get an x-ray." Chris instructed her with a sigh. Allison nodded her understanding and, without a glance back at Stiles, limped her way upstairs. Chris sighed again before turning to face Stiles; she wasn't smiling anymore.

"Does that mean we're done for the day? That hardly felt like a workout." Stiles groused idly. Chris didn't answer her immediately, but instead bent down to pick up Allison's discarded sword.

"We don't have to be done," he replied with a casual shrug.

The way that Stiles' face lit up at the prospect of more violence should have indicated to him that, perhaps, he should have sent her home. Chris Argent had always prided himself on being a pretty decent judge of character. It was a necessary trait to have in the hunting business. And, he liked to think that he'd had Stiles pegged from the first time he met her.

Well, he was allowed to be wrong once.

As they sparred, Chris' mind was elsewhere, contemplating the drastic changes in the young woman attempting to cut his head off. The Stiles Stilinski that he knew and tolerated before her training had seemingly taken an extended vacation and been replaced by this berserker. In the month that he and Allison had spent working with her, she had lost all residual baby fat and become a lean, lithe fighter. Gone were her coltish limbs and flailing movements; in their place were precise and calculated actions, usually put forth to run someone through with a sword. 

Aside from physical appearances, Stiles had changed psychologically, as well. Among friends and her father, she still talked a mile a minute and laughed raucously at the antics of her packmates. But, when it was just her and Chris, he could tell that her once whiskey warm eyes had hardened into an icy amber, and that she was quickly becoming more and more familiar to him. 

She reminded Chris of what Allison was like after her mother's death, for a time. That thought had made him physically ill, because what if he was becoming like Gerard? But, after training sessions when she let out a victorious whoop and began to ramble about her awesome kick-ass skills, he didn't feel so bad or like he had turned her into a killer like the one he still gave goodnight kisses to before bed.

Well, he was allowed to wrong maybe more than once.

\-----------------------------------------------------------

It was a few weeks later that the first threat in a long while strolled its way into town. They were a pack of werewolves, only four strong and obscenely non-intimidating. So much so that they were largely ignored by the Hale pack. That is, until they decided that the best way to draw the resident pack was to attack their only perceivable weak point - the human member of the pack. It was their last and worst mistake.

"Allison! Allison, open the door!" Isaac yelled desperately. He was banging on the door so hard, it had begun splintering under his strength. Though, in his panicked state, he hardly cared. Isaac was contemplating kicking the door in when it finally swung open to reveal a very disgruntled Chris Argent.

"Is there a particular reason you're attempting to break my door down, Mr. Lahey?" Chris inquired casually, folding his arms across his chest. He only raised an eyebrow in response when Isaac snarled lowly at his casual demeanor. 

Clenching his fists, Isaac huffed out, "Stiles didn't come home this afternoon. Scott said that she was supposed to be studying with Allison, and when I called to see if she wanted to hang out tonight, she didn't answer. Is she still here?"

Chris immediately reacted by turning on his heel and running into the house, calling for his daughter. "Allison, is Stiles here?" he shouted up the stairs to where she was, presumably.

"No, she left after we finished training!" Allison yelled back. A moment later, she appeared at the top of the steps, but didn't notice Isaac at the stairs. "She took her sword with her, though. She said something about being safe rather than sorry." Isaac's responding roar startled her so badly that she almost fell down the stairs.

"She what?!" he growled angrily. "What is she doing with a sword? And what do you mean by 'training'? What the fuck has been going on?"

"Isaac, there's no time for questions. We need to find Stiles, and if she's not answering her phone, then clearly something is wrong." Chris barked out sharply before turning back to Allison. "Grab your gear and meet us out front. While you're at it, text Derek and tell him to get the rest of the pack and meet us here. Isaac, go outside and see if you can start tracking Stiles' scent. She hasn't been gone too long, so it should be strong."

Before Isaac could say anything, Chris turned and moved quickly to the back of the house. He stood there for a moment, dumbfounded before he remembered that his mate was missing and more than likely in danger. Allison was already on the phone explaining the situation to an increasingly angry Derek. The Alpha didn't take too kindly to his pack being threatened or other wolves moving in on his territory, and both of them at once was too much for his frayed control.

"I'm already tracking her scent. Tell Isaac to go to the warehouse district in town; that seems to be where it's leading. You and Chris can meet us there and provide long range cover fire." Derek commanding voice came across loud and clear to Isaac, even through the phone. He nodded once to Allison to indicate that he had received his Alpha's message before he took off, on foot, to find his mate.

\--------------------------------------

By the time the whole pack, plus the Argents, had congregated and managed to follow Stiles' scent to the right warehouse, an hour had passed. Isaac was a snarling, desperate mess in his desperation to find his mate. Derek was struggling to keep him under control and prevent him from barging into the warehouse and possible getting Stiles hurt.

"We can't rush in there recklessly!" Derek roared at his beta. "I know you're worried and upset, but I promise that I won't let anything bad happen to Stiles! She's my beta just as much as you are, and I will protect her. Let me."

Isaac wanted so badly to disobey, to charge in there and rip the bastards that had taken his mate to shreds. But, the sincerity of Derek's words and the weight of his Alpha command wouldn't allow Isaac to do so. Instead, he bowed his head in submission and trusted that Derek would keep her safe. And if Isaac also prayed to a god he long since lost faith in, well, no one had to know. He would do anything he had to if it meant insuring that his mate, his everything, was okay.

He needn't have worried.

Derek finally gave the pack the signal to move forward, with the Argents covering their backs. He slid the door to the warehouse open loudly and they all rushed in, claws, fangs, and guns at the ready. The sight that greeted them would give Chris nightmares for months to come.

Standing in the very middle of the room was Stiles with her back to them. Her entire body was soaked in blood that Isaac determined, with a deep breath, was none of her own. In one hand, she gripped the hilt of her claymore, Brisingr, tightly, and in the other she held what seemed to be a human head. Huh.

"Stilinski?" Jackson croaked out uncertainly. He had never found the small woman to be remotely scary, but in that moment, he was terrified of her. 

Stiles turned sharply at the sound of her name, sword raised up in front of her body and the head discarded haphazardly to the side. Erica gasped audibly when she took in the ghastly image of blood drenched curls plastered to her pack sister's forehead and her heart jumped in her chest at the wild stare she was leveled with when the noise attracted Stile's attention. Boyd took a strategic step backwards and behind Derek.

"What happened here, Stiles?" Derek asked quietly. His tone was cautious, as if she were an animal that could be spooked. She shifted her focus to him and cocked her head to the side, as if she were confused by his question.

"They kidnapped me," she explained plainly. "The alpha said he was using me as bait to lure you guys here to kill you. Then, he said he was going to kill my mate and claim me as his own. I chopped his head off first. After that, his pathetic betas fell like dominoes." 

She looked around at her feet for a moment, made an 'aha!' noise, and then bent down to pick up another head. Sheathing her sword, Stiles took the head in both hands and skipped forwards to stand before Derek. He was a bit surprised, and disturbed, when she knelt and presented it to him.

"This is the alpha's head. Did I do well, Alpha?" she murmured softly. Derek quickly looked to his pack for guidance, because he had no fucking clue what to do in that situation. They all nodded frantically and Jackson mouthed, "Take the fucking thing before you're next!" With that grim encouragement, Derek gingerly took the head from Stiles, holding it by the hair.

"Erm, you did very well, Stiles." he informed her uncertainly. 

Derek was rewarded with a beatific, but vicious smile from Stiles as she rose from her knees. She turned to the rest of the pack, still beaming and still doused in the blood of her victims. That's what they were, because Jesus Christ, they never stood a chance, did they?

"Who wants to get some Mexican and grub?" she asked brightly. She spoke casually, as if she hadn't just slaughtered four werewolves and presented the head to her alpha as easily as if it were a teddy bear. 

Isaac raised his hand hesitantly and was immediately fixed with seven incredulously glares from his pack and the Argents. "What?" he demanded defensively. "I love Mexican food and I'm starving."

Stiles shocked them all again by letting out a gut busting laugh at his words. Like, tears were streaming down her face as she fucking cackled. When she finally calmed down enough to speak, she smiled at her mate and said, "I love you." And then she promptly fainted and hit the ground with a thud.

For the longest moment, they all just stood there, paralyzed with shock. Isaac and Derek shared a perplexed look, and then the alpha turned to the rest of the pack and held up the head. "What the fuck is this? What the hell happened here?" he asked, flailing his arms in a very Stiles-like manner. Scott had to step back to avoid being hit with the bloody head.

"I don't know," Jackson began exasperatedly. "But, I didn't sign up to deal with a batshit crazy Stiles. Nope. Nuh-uhn. Fuck this." And then he just left. Fucking ran out the door, swiftly followed by Erica and Boyd, who threw apologetic looks over their shoulders at their Alpha.

"Don't even think about it, McCall. She's your best friend; you're going to help clean up these bodies," Derek snarled when Scott began edging towards the door. "Isaac is going to take his suddenly murderous mate back to the loft and clean her up. And the Argents," both of them jumped guilty. "are going to explain why the fuck they gave Stiles a sword."


	4. Niszczyciel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pack meets to decide what to do about Stiles.  
> It doesn't go well for anyone involved.
> 
> Except for maybe Isaac.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've been really flattered and pleased with the response I've received for this story. Thank you all so much for continuing to read and comment!
> 
> This chapter will involve more pack dialogue with Stiles. And Deaton is there to sass the shit out of everyone.

Isaac stood at the foot of the steps of the newly rebuilt Hale house. He had been outside pacing for the past twenty minutes, huffing and snarling irritably. The rest of the pack were already inside, but no one had so much as dared approach him until he was ready to talk. They were rightly wary because, while Isaac was typically a docile wolf, he was fiercely protective of what was his when it was threatened. And if Derek had no idea how much he had McFucked up with his earlier text messages to his first beta, he would soon find out.

4:45pm  
From: Derek

"Come to the house at six. We're having a pack meeting."

Isaac had been in the middle of Chemistry homework when he'd received the text, spread out in Stiles' living room. She was busy in the kitchen making them what she called brain food for their study date. Isaac quirked an eyebrow at the vague message, and he went to type one back.

4:47pm  
To: Derek

"What is the meeting about? I'm studying with Stiles right now and would like a good reason to leave."

Placing the phone next to his book, Isaac went back to his homework, breezing through the problems. The studying was mainly for Stiles who, despite Harris' much deserved death, was still shit in Chemistry. He was almost done with the last set when his mate finally skipped her way back from the kitchen. In her hands were two plates, each holding a triple-decker sandwich with more meat than Isaac thought could fit between two slices of bread.

"Here you go, babe!" Stiles chirped happily as she set a plate across from Isaac on the coffee table. She plopped down on the floor next to his feet and immediately set to devouring her own with a ferocity only seen in her werewolf companions. Isaac chuckled softly, which caused her to turn and blink at him inquisitively with cheeks stuffed with sandwich. He outright laughed at her resemblance to a chipmunk, clutching his sides. Far from being offended, Stiles shrugged and turned back to her meal.

Isaac was wiping tears from his eyes when he felt his phone vibrate against his thigh. He glanced at the screen and noted, with a sigh, that it was from Derek. 

4:50pm  
From: Derek

"For the love of God, don't bring Stiles. The meeting is about her. Just make up some excuse for why you have to leave. The meeting won't take long, so tell her you'll be right back."

A serious frown marred Isaac's face; what could the pack possibly have to say about Stiles? He briefly considered ignoring the text altogether and not going, but Stiles made that impossible.

"Whatever it is Derek needs you to do, go ahead." she sighed suddenly. "Dad won't be home until morning, so we'll have plenty of time for me to struggle through Chemistry when you get back." A devious smile crossed her pretty lips. "And perhaps we'll have time to study for anatomy."

Isaac's brow furrowed in confusion and he said, "We don't have anato--." Stiles raised an eyebrow incredulously and then he suddenly got it. He jumped up from his seat on the couch. "Oh. Oh! In that case, let me hurry up and go now so that I can get back early. Anatomy is my favorite subject to study." He paused and made eye contact with her before saying in a lower voice, "In depth."

Satisfied with the blush that heated up his mate's cheeks, Isaac quickly gathered his phone and jacket, and placed a sweet kiss on her forehead. Before he pull away completely, Stiles grabbed onto his shirt and tugged him down with more strength than he'd previously thought him capable of. Isaac let out a (very manly) yelp of surprised that was quickly stifled by the press of her lips to his. 

The kiss was gentle at first, but quickly moved into the territory of heated and desperate. Gripping her by her upper arms, Isaac pulled Stiles up until she was standing and pressed against him. He reached up and wound his fingers around the curls at the nape of her neck, using the leverage to tug her head back and deepen the kiss. Stiles responded enthusiastically by plastering herself as close to him as possible without becoming on with him.

"Go ahead and go before I decide to keep you here for nefarious reasons," she growled threateningly against his lips. Isaac chuckled softly and nodded before pulling back to smile down at his mate.

"I won't be gone long," he had promised. "So, stay out of trouble and actually study, please. If you make it through chapter ten notes, I might be tempted to reward you by finding a spot that Grafenberg might have missed on the female anatomy."

It had barely dawned on Stiles what her boyfriend was insinuating by the time he had kissed her cheek and was out the door.

A ten minute drive and twenty minutes of pacing later, and Isaac was still glancing in sheer disbelief at the latest text Derek had sent him. Isaac had just been turning onto the dusty trail of the preserve that led directly to the Hale house when his phone vibrated in his jacket pocket.

"Jesus H. Christ, I'm on my way." he had grumbled under his breath. Careful to keep his eyes on the road, Isaac dug his phone out and deftly opened the text one-handed and read it.

From: Derek

"Perhaps it would be best if you didn't come. It was unreasonable for me to expect you to be impartial when it came to deciding what to do about Stiles."

He would never admit it aloud, but Isaac had almost swerved his car clear into a tree; he was that shocked. "What to do about Stiles?" he had asked of thin air after tossing his phone into the passenger seat, the text left unanswered. It was by the grace of the gods that he got away with going twenty miles over the speed limit, especially with the sheriff on duty that night.

\------------------------------------------

At around 6:05pm, having finally calmed down enough to retract his claws, Isaac stomped his way into the house. Immediately, everyone's attention was on him, with varying degrees of pity and concern.

"Don't give me that poopy diaper look, Erica." Isaac growled lowly. "At least Derek isn't attempting to put a hit out on your mate.

"That's not what he's trying to do," Scott insisted from the other side of the living room. Isaac ignored him.

"Where is he, anyway?" was Isaac petulant huff.

"Right here." Derek's grumpy voice answered. He stepped into the living room and was followed by, to everyone's surprise, Chris and Allison Argent. "I had to meet these two at the edge of the preserve. As part of the treaty, they are only allowed on Hale territory if they are guiding there by me."

Most of the pack shrugged and made general noises of ascension, and Scott simply pulled Allison into his side and buried his nose in her hair. The sight of them made Isaac's chest ache for his mate and the previous focus of his thoughts were brought to the forefront again.

"Why is he here, though?" Isaac demanded, jerking his chin towards male hunter. 

Derek folded his arms across his chest and turned narrow eyes towards the Argent in question. "Chris is here to offer some insight on Stiles' apparently top-secret training. Maybe then, we can figure out how she went from nerdy researcher to harbinger of death," the alpha explained to the room at large.

Each wolf turned to stared at Chris expectantly, causing the older man to sigh. "Look, Stiles went to Allison after the whole fairy fiasco and asked her for training. Allison tried to help her, but some things were out of her depth. So, she asked me to assist her and shit hit the fan after that," Chris explained, scratching at his beard. "She was her normal, clumsy self, at first. Completely useless with a bow and arrow, but once she got the hang of a sword, she began to change. It was subtle, in the beginning. Her words held more of an edge and she was more ruthless in sparring combat than was absolutely necessary. I didn't think she would be capable of what we saw she'd done to that pack."

Isaac let the hunter's words wash over him and the only thing he could think about, could focus on, was that it was all his fault. If he had just agreed to let her train with the pack, she wouldn't have had to turn to hunters for help. Now his mate, the love of his life, was someone they all barely recognized. Except...

"Except, I know that she's still the same. There's nothing wrong with her." Isaac insisted. He turned to Derek and pleaded with him to understand that Stiles was just fine. Derek didn't seem to be able to face him, and instead turned to Scott.

"Scott, we need to do something about Stiles." Derek grumbled quietly.

"What do you expect me to do?! The last time I got between her and prey, she almost took my head off!" came Scott's incredulous reply.

"I think it's kind of hot." Isaac offered casually, shrugging his shoulders. And he wasn't lying. Something about the sight of his mate, vengeful and bloodthirsty awoke something primal in him.

"If you all have finished deciding whether you're going to lock me in the loony bin or not," came an irate voice from near the front door. Once again, the pack turned towards the front door in unison were terrified to see the small frame of one Stiles Stilinski filling the space. Strapped to her back, thankfully in its sheath, was Brisingr and her hand was resting casually on its hilt.

Honestly, no one had ever seen Jackson move to fast, not even after he became a werewolf. As soon as Stiles' gaze shifted in his direction, he jumped up from his seat on the couch next to Lydia, sprinted to the window, threw it open, and then leaped out. In the distance, the wolves could hear him shouting, "Nope. Nope. Not going to die for you losers. She can keep chopping off heads, as long as it isn't mine."

Derek honestly would have laughed if he didn't have a very disgruntled, sword-wielding killer on his hands. He turned towards her with his arms at his sides and palms facing forward in what he hoped was a placating manner.

"Stiles, we're not trying to send you to a mental hospital." Derek informed her reassuringly. "We've just been attempting to figure out what brought about this change in you. It's not normal and we--" Isaac cleared his throat loudly. "Okay, everyone besides Isaac are scared shitless of you. There. I said it."

Of all the ways Derek had expected her to respond, laughing was not one of them. Maybe running him through with her sword or making an attempting at his head, but not laughter.

"God, you all are such wusses!" Stiles exclaimed as she laughed raucously. "If you had just fucking asked, then I would have told you what I am. It's not like it was a secret or anything. Also, I'm well aware that it wasn't normal. I mean, for the love of Jesus, I handed you another Alpha's head, Sourwolf."

"So what the fuck is up with you, then?" Erica groused from the couch. Where she so happened to be just outside the striking range of Stiles' sword.

"Stiles is what you'd call a niszczyciel, Ms. Reyes."

All heads whipped in the direction of the new, but familiar voice and were met with Alan Deaton, wearing a decidedly uninterested expression. Scott had turned so swiftly, he had caught a crick in his neck and swore as he massaged it until it healed. "How do you know all this shit?" Scott groaned, squinting at his boss through one eye.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure you know who killed Biggie, but are keeping it to yourself." Stiles drawled lazily. She was now leaned up against to foyer wall with Brisingr gripped in one hand and her cell phone in the other. Isaac tuned his hearing in and noted that she was playing Candy Crush.

Casting her an incredulous look, Isaac huffed, "Really, Stiles? Candy Crush is appropriate in this situation?"

Stiles looked up from her phone with the most innocent smile and said, "Well, I've been stuck on this level for a week and there's no time like the present."

"Wait, back up. Why does Deaton know what's up with Stiles?" Boyd asked the room sensibly.

Everyone, including Stiles, turned to the veterinarian with expectant looks. Not for the first time in their time knowing him, Alan rolled his eyes and replied with, "I know 'what's up with Stiles' because Claudia Stilinski and I were friends, and Stiles takes after her mother. Her entire maternal family are niszczyciel; destroyer."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you didn't know, Dr. Grafenberg discovered the g-spot. Hence, the name.
> 
> I'm really sorry to have left it there, but I was going for some drama this chapter. Please let me know what you thought!


	5. Valhalla

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t let it go to your head, Sourwolf. It would have been a waste of a perfectly good, severed head,” she grinned sharply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the finally chapter, you guys!  
> You know, I initially meant this story to be a light, funny one-shot and then it got away from me.  
> Just so you know, the mythology I mention in this chapter is completely made up by me. Like, it doesn't make sense. What even? Whatever.  
> Enjoy and be sure to read the end note for translations.

Deaton’s revelation was widely met with blanks stares and silence. Stiles knowingly shifted her eyes to rest on Lydia and was not disappointed when she saw a frown curve the redhead’s pretty mouth. 

“Why have I never heard of this?” Lydia demanded sharply. She glared at Deaton and Stiles specifically, as if they had set out to vex her.

Pocketing her phone, Stiles ventured further into the living room to stand next to Isaac. Her hand automatically reached out to grasp his and he returned her gesture with a gentle squeeze. In truth, it never occurred to Stiles to clue her pack in on her heritage. This, admittedly large, piece of her was only remaining gift her mother had ever given her and she selfishly wanted to keep it to herself.

“Because niszczyciel is a Polish word,” Stiles admitted with a sigh. “My mom and babcia emigrated her from Poland after dziadunio died unexpectedly and left them with no money. Mom grew up here, married Dad, and they had me; the perfect family picture, right? Except, Mom died and left Dad with me before she could tell me--.”

Stiles stopped speaking abruptly, and for the first time in weeks, Isaac saw her bend, just a little bit. Her fingers, so tiny and destructive, held his tighter and when he looked at his mate, little drops of saltwater clung to lashes, Isaac ached to take it away. But, as she was proving lately, Stiles was not made of crystal and she pulled her pain back and clutched it tightly to her chest. As she has always done.

Every indifferent to actual human emotion, Deaton took it upon himself to continue where Stiles left off. 

“Niszczyciel are a fairly recent type of supernatural creature,” he explained clinically, distantly. “They are what inspired the Viking’s idea of Valkyries in Norse mythology. Strictly limited to the female gender, the strength, cunning, and combat abilities were said to be a gift from the goddess Freya.”

“But, if the myth behind them is Norse in origin, why do they have a Polish name?” Erica piped up confusedly.

Deaton leveled her with an unimpressed glare for her interruption and lack of deductive skills. “Niszczyciel are not only found in Poland, Ms. Reyes. The literal translation is ‘destroyer’, as I mentioned earlier, and they can be found, like werewolves, all across the globe. If you look in the French version of the Argent’s bestiary, you will find that they are listed as ravageur. Now, if I may continue?” he responded evenly, but with a raised eyebrow. Erica nodded and mimed zipping her mouth shut.  
“Regardless of origin, the Destroyer are relatively rare in this century due to the lack of need for warriors, particularly women. Typically, a Destroyer, if allowed to be raised by her mother, would be trained in combat and led by their regent. Stiles was cut off from that, until she was exposed first, to Derek, and then to training from the Argents. Like the effect the full moon has on you all, combat of any sort can awaken the latent killing instinct in any Destroyer. I had assumed that you, her pack, would protect her and prevent her from being exposed to such triggers, but I suppose it was unavoidable.”

Scott was the next to interrupt, letting out an incredulous scoff. “You think we didn’t try?” he groused, flailing much in the same manner as his best friend. “Nothing short of tying her up and throwing her in a cellar would have stopped her from gallivanting off and attacking monsters!”

“Hey!” Stiles yelped indignantly. “I don’t gallivant anywhere! Mostly, I get kidnapped or caught off guard in the damn woods with my literal pants down because someone,” she shoots a look at Isaac, “couldn’t keep their hands to themselves until we slayed the damn wendigo.” 

Before Isaac could retort, Derek cut in and asked, “So, is that why she presented me with a human head? She viewed me as her regent?”

“Essentially, yes. Destroyer present their regent with the heads of their enemies as a show of respect.” Deaton replied helpfully.

Derek swung his head around to gape at Stiles with, what she considered to be too much shock. “You respect me?” he asked in disbelief. He placed a hand against his heart and mockingly staggered back in surprise. Stiles blinked at him once, then twice before breaking out in a raucous laugh. Moving faster than human to stand next to him, she reached up and flicked his nose.

“Don’t let it go to your head, Sourwolf. It would have been a waste of a perfectly good, severed head,” she grinned sharply. 

Turning to face the rest of her ragtag pack, Stiles frowned and folded her arms. “You know, you guys are horrible friends. How could you ever be afraid of me?” Stiles demanded, sounding hurt. “I mean, Jackson, I can understand. I kneed him in the balls so hard in eighth grade, he threw up for five minutes. But, you guys know me. I’m still the same Stiles. Just a tad more lethal.”

Erica was, unsurprisingly, the first to leap up and tackle Stiles down to the floor. The startled squawk that was forced from her quickly changed to a shrill shriek as the rest of the pack piled on top of the two girls.  
“Christ on a cracker!” Stiles yelled from beneath the werewolf and human bodies. “I get it, okay?! You love me and appreciate me. Now, get off!” 

And they all lived happily ever after. 

That is, until Stiles chopped off the head of a female alpha who got a little too close to Isaac and might have caused a minor werewolf World War. Whoops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> babcia - grandma  
> dziadunio - grandpa
> 
> Send me prompts at truealphaofthesepanties.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know how you liked it?


End file.
